Twice in One Lifetime
by Ladyamesindy
Summary: Arhiannon Cousland makes her way through life and the Blight  with a little mystery and intrigue thrown in for good measure  and finds love not once but twice along the way ...  F. Cousland/Gilmore/Alistair   Obviously AU
1. The Antivan Affair

This is a part of something larger that I started about a year ago, but never got around to evolving because other stories became more insistent upon being told. Since Dragon Age II is beginning and starting us down a whole other series of possibilities for stories, I have decided to start publishing the pieces I do have for you to enjoy.

The warden is Arhiannon Cousland, a sword and shield warrior. She has appeared in yet another small fanfic of mine which will most likely get pulled and updated to be added to this collection. These pieces will be published in no particular order as of yet, simply whenever the story decides to be told. At some point I may go and rearrange them all into a more ordered timeline.

In the meantime, enjoy the following, a "what if the female Cousland and Rory Gilmore" situation. One of my little flights of fancy that was inspired by the lack of being able to romance Ser Gilmore in game.

Thanks as always to my betas:_**liso1966 **__and __**MireliAmbar**__ for content and to __**Erynnar**__ for helping bat around title ideas. Thank you ladies!_

Bioware owns all but what I made up …...

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_The Antivan Affair_

Arhiannon stood on deck, wind blowing her coal black curls about her face as she stared out across the waves. The ship continued to approach its final destination: Antiva City. The sky was darkening a bit, but whether that was due to approaching storms in the distance or the late afternoon sky sinking into evening, she was not certain.

She was here, arriving in Antiva, on a mission. Her smile ended in a smirk of amusement. Fergus had been insistent upon her inclusion in the honor guard.

"_I want to be sure she returns safe, Arhi_," _Fergus told her._ _ "And, it never hurts to have another woman along …."_

"_What am I going to have in common with her?" Arhiannon demanded, frowning a bit and only just managing to not stomp her foot in protest. "I am a soldier, Fergus! She and I will have nothing in common!"_

_Fergus gave her a look of pride. "You are a Cousland, a noble and a member of our father's guard. You will do well no matter what happens." He took her by her shoulders, squeezing for a moment. "I trust you to bring my future bride back safely."_

_Frowning, Arhiannon caught more than what her brother's words were saying. "What do I need to know?" she asked with a sigh._

_Fergus released her, gesturing her down the pathway leading to their father's study. He said nothing more to her, simply leading her in to the room where they found Bryce Cousland standing near a window reading a letter._

"_Father, I have found her."_

_Bryce turned, greeting both of his children with a smile. For just a brief moment, he let his thoughts roam back over the years, remembering when it had just been himself and Eleanor, then the arrival of Fergus …and five years after that his daughter …. "Good." He gestured for them to take seats by the hearth, where he joined them._

"_I assume Fergus has informed you of your impending mission?" Bryce asked his daughter._

_Arhiannon nodded, remaining silent. Her father would tell her in his own time, his own way. _

"_I want you to pick your team from the men," he instructed. "I assume Rory will be your second, as always?"_

_Arhiannon nodded, her left arm hitting out when she heard Fergus snigger beside her. She made contact, but the space between their chairs made the move ineffective, which only caused Fergus to laugh harder. "It isn't my fault you didn't choose him," she muttered. "I got the better end of the bargain, I'd say."_

_Fergus remained silent. Though he enjoyed teasing his sister to no end, he had known from the time of Roland Gilmore's arrival at Highever Castle at age eleven, that the lad would be in his sister's ranks. He and Rory had discussed it in depth over the years, and both came to the same agreement. Fergus had chosen another, older soldier, not because he didn't trust in Rory or his abilities. To the contrary, he wanted the best to be with his sister, to watch out for her and to keep her safe. _

"_Now, Pup," Bryce continued, addressing his youngest, hiding his smile because he knew Fergus' reasoning and he actually agreed with his son in this regard, "you realize of course that by going to Antiva, you will be facing a difficult situation."_

_Arhiannon nodded again. She knew about Antiva, how the infamous assassin's and thieves' guild, the Crows, not only ruled the roost as an elite organization, but also politically. It was a well known fact that the Crows had been responsible for many a death within the nobility or even royal family of Antiva. "I do," she replied._

"_You want to take enough men to have a complete security force, yet not too many to alert others that something valuable is at stake."_

_Arhiannon nodded once more. Pondering a moment, she finally announced, "Myself, Rory, and eight others should be enough."_

_Bryce smiled to himself. Even at the tender age of seventeen, his daughter was becoming quite the warrior and strategist according to Fergus and some of the other knights amongst his men. He was pleased to be able to see her in action for himself. "Good," he agreed._

_Their meeting beginning to break up, both Fergus and Arhiannon rose to leave their father to his business when Arhiannon took a moment to ask, "Is there just cause to be concerned about an attack by the Crows?" She glanced first at her brother and then her father, noting that both men had suddenly stiffened. Frowning, she asked, "What are you not telling me?"_

_The look Fergus gave his father, one of pain and fear, was not missed by his sister. "There could be a problem," he admitted. "And we want you to be prepared."_

_Bryce sighed heavily, watching his daughter turn back to face him. Leaning against the desk, he nodded. "There are rumors that Vaughan Kendells may be up to something, but I have not heard anything definite."_

_Arhiannon sighed. She detested Vaughan Kendells, and for good reason. The man was a spoiled noble's brat, son of the Arl of Denerim, and always getting into trouble … usually without punishment. It was common knowledge the man used the alienage in Denerim as his own private whorehouse. "Why would he be up to something concerning Oriana?" she asked, though she could guess the answer._

_Fergus snorted. "The bastard," he glanced over at his father. "Sorry, ser. The man is offended that I did not choose his poor little sister to be my wife."_

"_Be careful, Pup. Keep your eyes open at all times," her father warned. _

_Behind the warning, Arhiannon sensed his concern. No matter how much of a soldier she became, she knew that she would always be his little girl. Sighing, she nodded. "I will." She took a step towards the door. "I will go gather my men. When do we leave?"_

"_Tomorrow evening," Bryce told her. "The ship is called _The Siren's Call._ We can go over any last minute details at dinner tonight."_

_With a grin, she nodded, knowing there would be no last minute details to go over. Her father, despite his concern for her as his daughter, allowed her to do her job. Now it was time to hunt down Rory, and plan out this journey. With a slight bow in her father's direction, a warrior's wrist grip with her brother, she murmured, "I will bring her back safely, brother. No worries in that regard."_

_Fergus smiled back, squeezing her arm. In truth he was incredibly proud of her. "I know you will. I would trust no other with this."_

So Arhiannon and Rory had selected the men, choosing eight of her best and most trusted soldiers amongst all the troops of Highever to be the escort; and common knowledge around Ferelden had it that _all_ the men of Highever were the best trained and most trustworthy.

Arhiannon felt a presence at her shoulder disturbing her thoughts and turned to find Ser Roland Gilmore, or Rory as he preferred, cautiously moving forward. Smiling warmly up at him, for though she was tall like her Cousland and Muir ancestors, Rory still towered above her, she asked, "Feeling better now, Rory?"

The auburn haired giant blushed slightly. Much to both his and Arhiannon's consternation, her lieutenant had discovered that his stomach was not meant for travel by sea. They had been at sea for five days now, and for most of that time, Arhiannon had been below deck with Rory and two other of the men who shared the same affliction. She had nursed them through the worst of it, thankfully the seas had remained calm, and now they were beginning to show signs of recovery ….

Rory gave her a small smile, but moved closer to the rail of _The Siren's Call _just to be safe. The way his stomach had been rolling of late, he did not want to embarrass himself any more than necessary. "My apologies, my lady," he managed just before swallowing hard.

With a smile of sympathy, Arhiannon reached a hand out and placed it on his forearm, squeezing gently. "Enough, Rory!" she insisted. "I told you before, for most people it takes a while for them to gain their sea legs. Maker knows when I was little and we went to Redcliffe to visit Arl Eamon and Bann Teagan, I faced the same thing as we crossed Lake Calenhad." Arhiannon shuddered at the memory. She'd been seven at the time … and horribly ill … and Fergus had teased her mercilessly.

Rory's smile was hesitant, and he still looked green around the gills, but Arhiannon was pleased to note that he seemed to be doing better. Of course, after five days at sea cooped up ill in a cabin with two others in the same condition, she was aware that the fresh air was perhaps the best medicine for him at this time.

Turning to her right, Arhiannon glanced over towards the ship's captain, Isabella. The woman was giving Arhiannon an amused smirk, but with a wink, she realized it also contained obvious relief. There were certain dangers for people who stayed ill so long aboard ship, not the least of which was dehydration. When the men's conditions had first appeared, Isabella had pulled Arhiannon aside and stressed that the men should be fed water constantly, even if it kept coming back up.

Facing back out to sea, Arhiannon lifted her arm and pointed towards the distance. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Rory's gaze followed the motion. "The captain says we are about a day, maybe two, away." She glanced up, deep blue gaze contemplating the sea-green of her second's.

Rory nodded, still staring out at the distance. It was strange how looking that far seemed to be helping. Taking a deep breath, he ventured, "I … I will be fine."

Arhiannon bit her lip from the inside, attempting to hide the smile. The man was stubborn … perhaps stubborn enough to override his body's attack upon him. "Good. We'll be at Oriana's father's house for a few days. That should give you, Stanton and Eames time to fully recover before we depart." She sensed rather than heard his groan at the thought. "Buck up, Rory," she teased.

"Yes, my lady."

Arhiannon glanced up, her eyebrow rising in disapproval.

Rory sighed heavily, but refused to give in. He could be just as stubborn as she.

Again, Arhiannon bit the inside of her lip. They were friends, had grown up and trained together ever since his father had brought him to her father's service to squire almost ten years before. Their friendship had begun immediately and continued to grow and strengthen with each passing day, leaving them both with an undeniable bond of trust. But, there were still ways in which she would occasionally tease him mercilessly: the one at the top of the list was her title.

To her men, she was Ser, a worthy title for any leader of men. She had earned the right, the privilege and the honor. It was a title she was proud of, and one she fought fiercely to maintain. Though he never meant it as an insult, and she sometimes ignored when he forgot, Rory preferred to call her by her title of status, of her nobility, as she was the daughter of Teyrn and Teyrna Cousland. Over the years it had become a standing joke between them.

"Go below and rest if you like," she told him quietly. "I am more concerned that you and the men be at your best when we land than I am standing upon ceremony." She saw a slight look of relief in his eyes and she smiled as she watched him leave.

- # - # -

Arhiannon sighed as she headed towards the dining room. Oriana's father had insisted upon one last meal together, representatives of both families attending, and as she was the family representative for the Couslands, Arhiannon felt she must do as requested … even though her instincts were screaming out all sorts of alarms.

"I hope you don't mind me saying you look particularly … lovely this evening, … _my lady_," came a voice from behind.

Groaning, Arhiannon spun around to face Rory, still clad in his chainmail. "It would be _you_ to see me first!" she groaned.

His smiled widened. They had been in the city for four days. They were scheduled to leave on the morning tide, and planned to return to _The Siren's Call_ that evening. Of her eight men, two remained on board the ship, two others were on continuous patrol around the house trading off shifts with the remaining four men.

Offering her his arm, Rory waited until she accepted, reluctantly, and led her towards the hall. "I meant what I said," he told her. His aquamarine gaze traveled from the top of her head with her mass of black curls piled atop in a somewhat fashionable, yet totally sensible arrangement, down her slender frame. She had donned a linen tunic, bloused due to the fact that she was also wearing her sword belt at her hips. The blue of the shirt matched the color of her eyes and set off the glossy darkness of her hair. That added to black leggings that hugged her hips and legs, showing not only the well defined muscles beneath, but the shapeliness of her youthful figure.

When Rory burst out laughing, Arhiannon was startled. "What?" she asked, glancing up at him. She reached about to his chin height, so she had to tilt her head just a slight bit to catch the humor in his eyes. When he did not respond immediately, she frowned. "What?" she repeated.

Rory struggled to regain his breath, shaking his head for a moment as he did so to buy him some time. Finally, after a cough to shake the rest of the laughter away, he managed to point at her boots. With a bit of a smirk, he murmured, "They look a bit … underdressed for the occasion."

Arhiannon punched his arm. "I am not trying to make a bloody fashion statement!" she hissed at him. "How was I to know I would need something other than my armor?"

Rory replied warily, "I would have thought your mother would have sent you with a dress."

"My mother is the one who packed the shirt and leggings," she told him, her voice a bit more ferocious than she meant. "It was all I would let her pack for me." After a heavy sigh, she glanced back up at him, her cerulean eyes alight with a flame …. "Fergus is so going to owe me big time after this trip!"

Rory chuckled softly to himself, forever thankful that he had never raised this woman's ire to such a point against him. "Shall we?"

Sighing one final time, Arhiannon nodded.

- # - # -

Arhiannon was in the middle of describing Highever, its features and design, to Oriana's father when a sudden gasp to her left caught her attention. She had just reached for her goblet, the excessive amount of talking making her thirsty, when she felt Rory's hand reach out and grasp her wrist across from her. Glancing at him first, she saw the hardened look as he stared at the end of the table.

Oriana moved quickly from her position on Arhiannon's other side to check on their guest … a local merchant and favored cousin of Oriana's father, Pietro. When her future sister-in-law glanced up it was at her. "Poison," she whispered. "He is dead!"

Arhiannon's gaze flew back to Rory. Both stood, the goblet in front of them dropping to the table and spilling the contents. Out of the corner of her eye, Arhiannon saw that the cloth beneath the plates of food and glasses of wine was beginning to disintegrate where the liquid from her glass had spilled. With a curse, she leapt from her seat, hurrying over to Oriana's side. "Oriana, go over by your father," she instructed as she heard Rory calling for the rest of the Highever soldiers. Once inside the hall, he ordered them to surround Oriana's family, to protect them at all costs.

Looking at Pietro, Arhiannon saw a fear there, something she had not seen before when they first arrived. Thinking quickly, she murmured to Rory, "I think we are going back with more than just Oriana."

Rory nodded, his eyes scanning the room constantly, keeping a watch should someone try to make a more overt attack. "I don't believe we have a choice in the matter anymore."

Nodding, Arhiannon approached Oriana's father. "Signore, I think you should seriously consider departing for Ferelden with us," she told him. The man looked as if he might refuse. "Pietro!" she hissed sharply, catching his attention both by the urgency and by her lack of manners in the way she had addressed him. "Someone is trying to kill you! I need to know who and why, though I have some suspicions, and I need to keep you, your wife and your daughter safe!"

The man finally gave in, muttering about a threatening letter, burned after reading. Sighing, Arhiannon turned to Oriana. "Sister, you need to assist your parents in packing one bag each. They will need to travel with us to remain safe." Her brother's fiancée nodded, and Arhiannon gestured to the soldiers to escort the family to their rooms. "We meet back here in ten minutes. Daneth, you and Styles stay here for a moment please."

After the others had left, Arhiannon turned to her men. She realized suddenly this was a defining moment in her career as one of her father's commanders. "Daneth, I want you and Styles to scout ahead. We will go back a different way than that by which we came. No chances. We will leave here in fifteen minutes." Both men saluted before leaving.

Turning to Rory, she gave him an impish grin. "That bastard is going to pay, I swear it!"

Rory chuckled, knowing that when Arhiannon's ire was spiked, she could be a force to be reckoned with. Pulling his sword from its sheath, he suggested, "Why don't you go change into your armor?" He saw the light behind her cobalt eyes and barely contained his laughter.

Arhiannon hurried back up the stairs, thankful for any excuse to don her armor, her shield and her sword once more.

- # - # -

The attack came as they reached the docks and began boarding _The Siren's Call_. Arhiannon couldn't say she hadn't been expecting it. However, the actual sight of attackers this time was something startling to her. She counted almost twice their number, and those were the ones who could currently be seen. Others were sure to be hiding in the shadows.

Arhiannon didn't bother to argue, for she agreed all too easily. "Stanton, you and Marsden get them into the cabins and keep them there – safe!" With a grunt, the two men took off with Oriana and her family, leaving Arhiannon, Rory and four others to defend the ship. Between them and the two men already on board, the family would remain safe, Arhiannon knew. One less thing to worry about.

Arhiannon, as was her usual style, was in the middle of the formation they used, placing her up front, in the center of the attacking field. Though there were many reasons for this, the main one she said was to keep the focus of the attack at a point rather than being flanked. Most people they fought knew who and what she was, and therefore would try to take her for kidnap and ransom rather than immediate kill. These enemies, however, were not using the same tactics she was used to as they seemed to be taking on her and her men as if no one person was more important than another.

That in itself registered in the back of her mind, as well as the fact that they were facing no ordinary enemy. Somewhere in her mind, whether it was back at the house, or as the attack at the docks had begun, Arhiannon had recognized that it was not the standard military type of attack. And, as they were in Antiva … _When in Antiva, use Antivan Crows_, she remembered Aldous once lecturing. _Antivan Crows. This will be interesting,_ she thought_._ She had to wonder silently how six shield and sword warriors, though the best trained soldiers of Ferelden, would stand up to more than a dozen members of the assassins' guild.

"They are crawling out of the woodwork!" Rory growled moments later, knocking another of the attackers back with his shield. Even as he defeated one, at least two others would show up out of nowhere it seemed, to continue where their fallen comrade had left off.

One of the attackers got a good lick in on Arhiannon, bashing into her shield with such force that it knocked her backwards into one of her other men. Both fell, though moved with speed to regain their positions. It was not enough, however, as the Crow attacking … Jameson, Arhiannon realized, managed to step behind him and succeed. The last thing Arhiannon heard before re-engaging her opponent was the man's grunt of pain as he went down thanks to a stab in the back. With a bellowing war cry, Arhiannon threw herself back into the fray.

Rory managed to defeat his opponent, realizing no more were in front of him. He glanced to his left as another Highever soldier defeated his opponent. Turning back, he moved to assist Arhiannon who, he noted, was now several yards ahead of him …. "Arhi!" he cried, watching in horror as the man who had just bested Jameson was nearing Teyrn Cousland's daughter.

Arhiannon heard Rory's cry and let it wash through her, the warning evident, the knowledge that he was behind her coming to her assistance ever present. She managed to defeat the one enemy to her front and started spinning to take on the approaching one when she felt a sharp pain across the outer edge of her right thigh. Immediately, she dropped to the ground as she felt her ability to stand, let alone walk, leave her.

Rory and the other men, now free of their entanglements, moved forward as a group, surrounding Arhiannon and the enemy engaged. Rory waved them back, signaling that the man was his.

Arhiannon rolled and watched as at the same time Rory inserted himself between her position and that of the Crow assassin, using his body and the Highever shield as a barrier. Though in tremendous pain, she watched in fascination as Rory fought his opponent, his roaring of the Cousland battle cry ringing through her ears and easing her fears.

Rory's chiseled features were set as if stone; intimidating, fierce and deadly. Though he knew the opponent he faced was a Crow, one of the members of the deadly assassin's guild, it didn't matter. An enemy was an enemy: he must die or he must surrender. _Antivan Crows do not _surrender, he remembered hearing once. It took some doing, and certainly was compounded by the fact that this particular enemy was swift and agile as a cat, but in the end, Rory was able to catch the man off guard, the blade of his sword slicing through the leather armor like a hot knife through butter while his shield smashed into the man's head.

Arhiannon breathed a sigh of relief watching the man fall, seeing her second back away cleanly, without injury. Relief washed through her, leaving her feeling weak and shaky. Until that moment, strangely after so many battles and training sessions together, Arhiannon had never thought about what losing her friend would mean to her. Oh, she knew that to lose Rory would be heart-wrenching, but her reaction confused her. She felt short of breath, an ache blooming in her chest in the area around her heart, a panic she had never experienced before. Trembling now, she felt the arm she was leaning on give out, her body falling forward without the support. After her head hit the dock, she remembered nothing more.

Gasping for breath, Rory had turned and begun striding towards Arhiannon when he saw her fall. "Arhi! No!" he cried in alarm, dropping both sword and shield as he hurried forward. As he dropped to her side he saw the wound on her leg, the loss of blood as it pooled on the planking of the dock, some of it slipping beneath the cracks and into the water below. He caught the side of her face, tilting her head so she could look up at him, but her gaze was glazing over, a sure sign of shock setting in which meant she was losing too much blood. Patting her cheek gently, Rory tried to get her to respond. "Arhi!" he murmured insistently, but her only response was her eyes rolling back in her head as she passed out.

Sliding his arms beneath her slight frame, Rory lifted Arhiannon and turned. He noticed that Daneth had retrieved Rory's sword and shield, and Styles and Eames were carrying Jameson's still corpse aboard ship. Following them, Rory carried Arhiannon aboard ship. Throwing one last glance over his shoulder, he found the ship's captain and announced, "Sail now, tide or no. We cannot afford to stay any longer."

The man nodded, turning towards the wheel. Within moments, they were pulling away from the dock.

- # - # -

Groaning, Arhiannon slowly opened her eyes, wincing at the brightness of the sunlight coming through the nearby window. It took her a long moment to remember what happened, to realize she was in a cabin lying on a bed … her leg throbbing. As the pain began to intensify, the memories of the dockside ambush came back.

It was as she tried to sit up that she felt a strong arm at her back, a familiar voice murmuring near her ear, "Easy does it, my lady."

Arhiannon struggled to turn her head, to see who was there, though in her heart she knew it had to be Rory. Ever had they been at each other's side when ill or injured. When she finally managed to turn her head, she saw that her instinct had indeed been correct. "Rory?" The hoarseness in her voice confused her.

He smiled down at her, his relief evident on his young features. "I really wish you wouldn't do that," he told her in a mock-serious tone. He handed her a water skin, assisting her while she took a long drink to slake her thirst.

Arhiannon smiled and chuckled gently. "Trust me," she returned, wiping drops of moisture from her lips and releasing the skin, "it wasn't intentional." She began pulling herself into a seated position, but struggled until he reached over and moved her himself. As he lifted her, she noticed he had changed out of his armor and into trousers and a tunic. It was the first time in a very long time she had seen him out of his armor. She couldn't help the soft gasp of surprise at the broadness of his chest beneath the dark green tunic, a color that brought out the brilliance of his eyes.

Rory sat back from Arhiannon after settling her against the pillows of the bed. "Better?" he asked with some concern. She was still looking pale, he thought. There had been a poison involved with the wound, though the ship's captain had been familiar with it and provided an antidote, and Rory realized he had no true understanding of any long term effects the poison might have.

Arhiannon nodded, though she was biting on her lip at the pain the movement had caused in her leg. Reaching over, she started to move the bandages to take a look, but soon felt him pulling her hands away. "Leave it," he told her sternly, placing a health potion in her hand. "I had the Maker's own time trying to get it on you in the first place, don't go messing up my handiwork."

She thought about giggling, but at his stern expression, she refrained. "Bad?" she asked, glancing up at him while trying to down the potion. She winced at the bitterness of the liquid, but she continued to drink it until it was all gone. _Maker, how I hate these things!_

Rory rose to his feet, pacing about the small cabin. Arhiannon followed his every movement and as she did so realized this was the cabin that he and his compatriots had shared during their illness at sea. "Rory?" A moment later, she could only stare in dumbfounded fascination as his fist pounded on the door frame, his back to her, his posture stiff. Swallowing hard, for she had no idea what had brought on this peculiar behavior, she began moving slowly, quietly, until her feet touched the floor. Rising carefully, she held on to the edge of the nearby table to keep from falling flat on her face. Her leg was already feeling better than before thanks to the potion she had ingested. "Rory?"

He turned then, sensing something was not right … and found her about to fall on her face again. "Andraste's holy arse!" he bit out, crossing the room in two strides and grasping her by her upper arms. As she was no longer in armor, his hands held her with bruising force. "Woman, I swear, you don't have the good sense the Maker gave a goose!"

Arhiannon blinked, startled by his outburst. Usually, Rory was a quiet, soft spoken person, gentle almost to a fault, occasionally awkward and embarrassed around her and other women … until he found something worth fighting for. "Rory, what in all of Thedas has gotten into you?" she demanded in confusion. She was concerned by his behavior. He was her best friend, she knew him better than any other. Why was he behaving so strangely?

"I should have done this a long time ago," he growled, pulling her against his muscled frame and lifting her so that their faces were mere inches apart. He stared down into cobalt depths that had him feeling as if drowning might be another form of living. "Maker's breath, Arhi!" he breathed softly before capturing her lips in a heated exchange that belied the gentleness in his voice.

Arhiannon's breath caught. She wasn't sure what startled her the most, the fact that Rory had any kind of feelings for her other than the strictly platonic relationship they had engaged in since their first meeting so many years before, or that his lips were savaging hers with such brutal intensity … and, yet, _it felt so right!_ Lifting her arms, she wrapped them around Rory's neck, pulling him closer.

The instant his lips touched hers, Rory couldn't keep himself from deepening their contact. It seemed that his body was reacting of its own accord: the feel of her soft lips against his, her taste, her scent …. He had no control any longer as he gave in to a depth of feeling that he had never known laid dormant.

Arhiannon felt him lifting her, pulling her closer to him. She tilted her head to deepen their contact yet again. When he pulled back for a moment, her eyes caught his sea-green gaze and saw the blazing fire behind it. This was what he wanted. This was what she wanted. Gasping in huge draughts of air, she struggled to keep her sanity. "Rory …," she whispered painfully, her heart trying to leap from her chest.

Rory heard the keening sound, saw the same desire in her cobalt gaze that he felt bubbling inside of himself. His mind beginning to war with his heart, with right vs. wrong, he finally shoved it to the wayside and lifted her into a more secure position within his arms. Laying her on the bed, he sat down beside her, rolling over to face her. "Arhi," he breathed achingly, searching her eyes, "I-I'm sorry, my lady! I-"

Arhiannon reached a hand up to his face, caressing his cheek. Then, moving to tangle her fingers in the dark auburn locks, she told him in a voice filled with need and wonder, "Rory, I never knew you felt this way …."

"I didn't realize it either," he returned honestly. Leaning forward, he kissed her again, this time gently. "Not until I almost lost you ... I need you, Arhi …."

Arhiannon heard the longing in his voice, the pure need and nodded. She felt it too. "And I, you …." She reached for the hem of his tunic, pushing it, bunching it around his shoulders, well formed and muscular, containing a strength that belied even what the naked eye could see. She had seen this man do incredible things with that strength, but the tenderness that he showed her now, the caring in his touch, his look, was something that the power within those warm, padded muscles, now controlled.

Rory groaned softly at the touch of her hands against his bronzed skin. Her hands were strong and capable, how could they not be when she was a shield warrior like him? Her touch was light, in some instances barely noticeable, but it was insistent. In the back of his mind, Rory knew that this was a bad idea: he was her second, the man she trusted to get the job done if she could not. And here he was taking advantage ….

Arhiannon felt him begin to pull away, to withdraw from her, and chose that moment to lift her mouth to his, reigniting the flames that had started this whole process to begin with. If there was any one thing she was certain of at this moment in time, it was that she would be his ….

Within moments, Arhiannon felt Rory's muscled frame against hers, skin to skin, and she groaned in sheer delight. She had occasionally overheard some of the servants at Highever discussing such activities, and all of them sounded pleased enough, but for herself, Arhiannon had yet to experience it. As for Rory, since they had spent almost every waking moment together since his arrival at age eleven, she knew it was the same for him.

Their touches were tentative, nervous; but the sounds that they emitted in response to each other reassured them in their explorations. Arhiannon allowed Rory to lift her shift off of her, over her head, her long dark curls falling about her shoulders, partially shielding her from his view. In return, her touch at the waist of his trousers caused him to gasp roughly, sounding almost as if he was in pain, but the look he gave her encouraged her to continue as she began to lower the garment. When she could no longer reach the fabric, Rory kicked it aside on his own, rolling to face her, to lean over her, to breathe in her scent and kiss her soundly.

"I've never done this," he told her around a groan as she ran her hands over his skin, touching places that had never felt a woman's touch before.

Arhiannon looked into his eyes. "Neither have I," she informed him, holding that look, watching as the recognition of her words weighed against the desire he was feeling. "I want it to be you, Rory," she added, her voice a hushed whisper, her eyes falling away in embarrassment.

Rory lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him once more. "Arhiannon, I want that too," he promised her quietly. He leaned forward and kissed her, then began trailing his lips in a path down her neck, across her shoulder. He felt her chest heave as she gasped for air, the shudders of delight passing through her, the increasing tension within her young body as it searched for fulfillment.

"Rory!" she breathed suddenly, feeling as if she was about to go soaring off of a cliff, "now! Oh, please, now!"

Rory hesitated just a moment, long enough to position himself between her legs, to feel her squirming against him. He lowered his hands to her hips, adjusted their positions, and united them in a single thrust.

Arhiannon's cry was lost in Rory's chest as she buried her head there. She had known what was coming, she and her mother had discussed this several times since she came of age. What she had not realized, however, was that the sharp, searing pain would tear at her as if she had been pierced by a long sword. _I suppose that is just what happened,_ she thought briefly as she struggled against the pain.

Rory stopped moving, waiting for her, trying to be patient, to give her time to recover and enjoy it. This would be the only time they were ever together, he knew, and he wanted it to be as special for her as it was for him. His full weight on his arms, one to her left the other to her right, he tried counting to twenty, thinking of anything but the intensifying sensations that were screaming through him at that moment. "Arhi?" he groaned at length, half prayer, half question.

Arhiannon shifted slightly on her own, felt the movement of her body against his … and felt the pain beginning to lessen. She drew in a sharp breath, her head snapping up to look at him. Rory took that as a request to begin what he so desperately wanted to do, and he leaned forward to kiss her. He captured her lips, tilted her head so that he could deepen the contact to match the rest of their bodies.

Arhiannon felt a desperation creeping up her spine vertebra by vertebra as Rory began the rhythm. She started to panic, feeling uncertain as to what she should do next. The sensation was intensely pleasing, but so foreign it was frightening to her.

His hands pushing her curls away from her face, he kissed her forehead, touched the sensitive area between her shoulder and her ear, parading kisses along her neck. He could hear her panting, her soft cries as she began to fall over the edge of oblivion. A moment later, she tensed against him, and before she could cry out, he kissed her once more to keep the sound soft so as not to alert others on board. Only as she began to collapse against him, to relax her body, did he finally seek his own satisfaction.

- # - # -

Arhiannon opened her eyes to find Rory curled up behind her, his strong arm laying around her waist, the covers drawn over them both. She shifted slowly, felt aches and pains in places she had never felt them before, and she sighed. She stretched her arms above her head, feeling like the cats at Highever whenever they would do their full body stretches. She wondered if they felt this … delicious afterwards. The sudden kiss on her shoulder startled her out of her thoughts and her arms dropped, one landing on Rory's nose. "Oh, Rory!" she gasped, sitting up suddenly and turning in his arms to face him.

Rory chuckled, rubbing the sore spot. "No worries," he told her with a smile. Then, a frown of concern crossing his features, he asked, "Are you all right?" He watched her blush, saw the pinking of her cheeks, her neck, and other areas. A part of him was embarrassed as well, while another part felt a fierce pride at being her first. "Arhiannon," he murmured, looking into the depths of her cerulean gaze, "I-"

Arhiannon placed her fingers at his lips, silencing him. She looked up into his eyes, saw the seriousness there, heard it in his use of her full name, and she shook her head. "From now until we get to Highever," she told him, her own voice just as serious, but not commanding, "we have each other."

Rory felt his heart lurching in his chest. _Such a short time!_ "We cannot!" he insisted. "You are my commander, the daughter of my liege-lord. If we were to be found out …."

Arhiannon smiled. "You are the son of a noble, minor though it may be, my second and my best friend, Rory," she told him, unable to contain her tears. "I know we cannot have forever," she saw the flash of pain in his eyes, felt it herself, but they both knew it to be true, "but we can have this time together, as long or as brief as it may be. When we return, you will be my second once more, and I your commander."

Rory closed his eyes tightly, turning his head away from her slightly. Could he really do that? What choice did he really have? Resting his forehead against hers at last, he reopened his eyes to find hers. "Know that, no matter what happens in the future," he told her, unable to hide the slight blush staining his face, "I love you, Arhiannon Cousland … as my liege, as my commander, as my best friend … as my lover."

Arhiannon shivered at the way his tongue wrapped around the word. _Lover_. Her smile was both wistful and sad. "As I do you," she returned softly, lifting her lips to his kiss, drowning herself in a much more relaxed session this time.

- # - # -

Arhiannon was up on deck, wandering around, hoping to stretch out the muscles in her healing, yet still stiff, leg. She made her way to the bow of the ship, staring out at the seas as the boat moved along, taking her ever closer to her home, yet further away from her heart. She had left her hair down, an unusual move for her, and now allowed the wind to blow through the long tresses. Along with her chain boots, still the only footwear she possessed, she had chosen to wear her black leather leggings, a cream colored linen shirt and, of course, her sword belt.

Rory watched her from a distance. He thought she looked a bit of the pirate, but did not alert her to that fact. As they were now in public, he had chosen to keep his distance, maintaining their professional relationship. He knew that he only had one, maybe two more nights with her until their return to the harbor at Highever, and he was intending on making them count.

Arhiannon turned and began walking towards the stairs leading below deck. She was tired, but not exhausted. She hoped to perhaps read for a bit, resting her leg, and silently waiting for Rory to return to the cabin. As she followed the pathway to the cabin, she came across Oriana. Smiling at the woman who was to become her sister, Arhiannon asked after the woman's family.

Oriana seemed a bit sad, but she managed a smile for Arhiannon's benefit. "My father is of course understandably upset," she explained, "but I think in the end he will find the change … refreshing. My mother will do whatever is necessary."

"I'm sorry it had to work out this way," Arhiannon murmured. "I know none of you were expecting such a drastic change."

Oriana actually laughed lightly. "Well, at least they will be close enough to visit their grandchildren now!"

Arhiannon nodded her agreement and left the woman with another smile.

Entering her cabin a few moments later, she changed into her nightshift before crawling into the bed and picking up the book she had brought on the trip. It was a tome on the strategies of Teyrna Elethea Cousland, something she had grabbed from the library before their departure.

Rory entered the room silently a few hours later, finding Arhiannon asleep against the pillows, the book she had been reading laying upon her chest. With a smile, he gently took the title from her, marking her page and setting it aside on the table. Then pulling a blanket over her, he turned away to change for the night. Moments later, he slid beneath the covers next to her. She moved in her sleep, curling against him, and Rory could not keep from closing his eyes tightly at the sensation, and the knowledge that their time together was almost done. "Oh Captain, _my_ Captain," he whispered near her ear before closing his eyes and falling asleep beside her.


	2. The Highever Tournament

_Another vignette in the life of Arhiannon Cousland - again, before the fall of Highever and her Joining. _

_I've always wondered about the tournament at Highever that is mentioned in game in some of the Ser Jory dialogue. I always thought that aside from a recruiting mechanism, what if there wasn't more to it? Sibling rivalry of a sort? Fierce family competition? This is one of the ideas I came up with ages ago and finally got around to writing up. Though there is suggestion of a "bad guy," I do not have a specific one in mind here other than the Couslands being a) second in line to the throne and b) nobles and c) all around good sorts they would have enemies. This perhaps could evolve into its own plot/intrigue at a later date depending on interest in it, but for now it remains as is. I hope you enjoy. Like the previous installment, there is a connection here with Rory Gilmore, but it is less defined. We also get hints into the future …._ _Timing wise, I picture this about six months or so before the fall of Highever, right after a certain king's bastard becomes a Grey Warden ..._

_Thank you to my awesomest betas: __**Erynnar**__ and __**MireliAmbar**__._

_Bioware owns all but what I made up …..._

_**A/N:**__ "ar thaobh na láimhe clé!" used below is gaelic and loosely translates to "on the left!"_

* * *

As a special treat, Teyrn Bryce Cousland had arranged for "teams" of his Highever men, one led by Fergus the other by Arhiannon, to test their skills against each other on the field of battle. As they entered the ring this day, each sibling accompanied by their second and six other men, they approached the grandstand, bowed towards their father's box and the guests within and then took their places.

Arhiannon led her men over to one side, final preparations being made to armor, weapons, and other sundries before the test. "Now is the time, boys," she told them quietly while glancing up at the stands. She spied her mother and father, Oriana and Oren both sitting behind them; the Grey Warden Commander Duncan and his fellow Warden, Alistair; and several of the town dignitaries. They and the rest of the crowd were murmuring with excitement for they all knew that the Cousland siblings had been pleading with their father for just such an event for years. Turning to face her men, she caught their gazes and murmured, "If we win this one, drinks are on me." There was a round of wide grins for the men knew that their commander was a soldier of her word.

The opposing sides took their places across from one another and awaited the command to begin. The Teyrn, standing at the edge of the enclosed grandstand, signaled for the horn to sound. And thus it began ...

For a very brief moment there was complete silence ... then the eruption of war cries, the clash and clang of metal upon metal; leather, splint, chain and plate; the grunts and battle cries that were familiar to any battle-hardened soldier. Arhiannon knew her brother had been the one to put her father up to this, to convince him it was time, and for that she was glad. It was a test of skills, a sibling rivalry … everything she and Fergus could have hoped for.

It took some time for the opponents to measure each other up, so well trained were they, knowing each others weaknesses and strengths. Finding an advantage was a difficult proposition. But finally, after some time, individuals began dropping out of the competition. Eventually the field had been whittled down to Arhiannon and Rory against Fergus and his second, Trayne. And the crowd was enjoying it all. Even the men who had been eliminated were now standing off to the side cheering as loudly as any of the spectators crowding into the stands.

Arhiannon had ended up facing off against her brother which, truth be told, was what the two siblings had been wanting to happen, though they had not said so in front of their family members. Their eyes now locked upon the other, intent on the battle at hand ... neither saw the danger until it was too late.

The first clue that either Cousland had that something was amiss was the crossbow bolt that implanted itself in Fergus' shield, barely missing Arhiannon's right arm. Both were shocked enough at the impact and sight of the near miss that their competition against each other froze. After a moment of indecision, Fergus pushed his sister down, crouching down beside her and shielding her momentarily from further assault with his shield as she shifted around to face the threat. Rory was soon on Arhiannon's other side with his shield in position as well, but Fergus' man, Trayne, had gone down with a bolt to his back.

Having practiced this shield defensive move in training with both men before, Arhiannon rose slowly, peeked over the top edges of the shields scanning for the threat. She also noted that the crowds of observers had begun scattering away from the stands in a panicked search for safety. She saw her father guiding her mother, Oriana and Oren away; noticed too that the two Grey Wardens were leaping over the sides of the stands and running to assist those on the field of battle. "Duncan and the other Warden are coming," she told her companions, her eyes still looking around for signs of the attacker's location.

Turning to glance behind her, Arhiannon saw the other Highever men, both hers and Fergus', in hand to hand combat with ... opponents she could not identify from her current position. Duncan and Alistair arrived then, forming up behind her, protecting her flank. She noticed that Alistair had a shield while Duncan had a longsword and dagger. Their eyes were in constant movement as well, though as yet, no one had been able to detect the owner of the offensive missiles.

The noise of another crossbow bolt landing in Fergus' shield caught her attention and she spun back around to face towards the stands. Had her brother's shield not been there, it would have hit her in the heart. "Where?" she demanded tightly.

"Not sure," Fergus replied. His voice was tense, his eyes still scanning.

"Top of the stands, to the right of where your parents were sitting," Rory said. "One crossbowman so far as I can tell, but I don't have a good angle."

"We've got incoming," Alistair warned suddenly from behind them, both he and Duncan taking several steps forward in an effort to keep the enemy soldiers from getting at the Cousland warriors.

"Andraste's arse!" Arhiannon hissed. How she wished she had a bow at that moment. She might not be as good a shot as her mother, but she could make that distance easily and eliminate the threat of missile attack. Glancing around in front of her, she did some quick calculations, evaluations, and finally lifted her voice to her brother. "Fergus! Let me out ... now!" Thankfully, Fergus and she had trained enough together that he trusted whatever she was about to do without knowing what it was ahead of time.

Throwing herself ahead in a somersault, Arhiannon quickly rose to her feet and began running in a zig zag pattern towards the stands. She ignored the fighting that was continuing on behind her, blocking from her mind the thought of what was happening to her brother, Rory and their men. As she neared the stands, however, she stumbled over something ... and it was just enough of a hesitation for the bowman to strike again ... this time at her.

Rory, his and Fergus' hands now filled with enemy combatants in front of them heard Arhiannon's cry and managed to glance over briefly without losing his advantage. "Maker's mercy!" he hissed, doubling his attack in an effort to break clear so that he could get over to assist her.

Arhiannon had fallen backwards, the bolt hitting her in the area of her upper right arm. It took her a long moment to recover her senses from the sudden attack. Just as she was beginning to move, despite her injury, she heard and then saw the crossbowman come tumbling down off the roof of the stands, an arrow in the back of his neck. Despite the haze of pain, Arhiannon recognized the fletchings that marked the missile: they belonged to Eleanor Cousland. Moments later, she spied her mother and father beginning to enter the arena to offer assistance.

Rory arrived at her side then, ordering her, "Stay down!" as he grasped her by the back neck of her armor and began pulling her to the side of the stands, beneath the upper dais where her parents had been seated earlier. As he knelt beside her, he moved his shield to block the opening. Turning his head, he saw her look up at him, confusion and pain in her gaze. "I don't dare remove it yet," he told her. "I have nothing to strap it with, to keep you from bleeding to death."

Arhiannon nodded. Rolling slightly, she shifted so she could look out into the arena. "Fergus?" she choked out.

"Holding his own. Those Wardens are watching his back, don't worry."

Arhiannon saw her mother and father reaching the group then, but most of the work appeared to be done ... until a crossbow bolt hit Rory's shield just above where Arhiannon's head was. _They are targeting me!_ she realized. Calculating the location, Arhiannon shouted, "Máthair - ar thaobh na láimhe clé!" She saw Eleanor spin to her left, her father moving in front of her to shield her as she took aim. A corresponding cry of pain and alarm after three rapid fire shots told Arhiannon more than she needed to know of the man's fate at her mother's hands.

"Stay here," Rory told her as he pulled himself out now that the immediate threat had been eliminated.

Arhiannon closed her eyes and laid her head back against the wood frame surrounding her. She knew she was badly injured, could feel her strength fading fast, and prayed to the Maker that she had not permanently lost the use of her arm. Moments later, she heard voices approaching: her mother's filled with concern; her father and brother, anger; Rory's urging her to stay awake; the Grey Warden Commander's deep and steady voice filled with reassurance ...

- # - # -

When Arhiannon next opened her eyes, it was to find herself in her bed, the curtains drawn and the lights out even though there were others in the room. Inhaling sharply at the pain she felt shoot through her arm, she called out shakily, "Mother?"

Several people moved forward into the dim lighting then, including Eleanor who took her hand immediately and held it tightly in her own. Glancing around, trying to focus in the dimness, Arhiannon found Rory and Warden Alistair there as well. "Wh-where am I?" she asked.

"Your room," Eleanor assured her. "You will be fine, though you did take some pretty severe damage to your arm."

Arhiannon closed her eyes for a moment before turning to examine her arm with a quick glance and murmuring, "Hurts ..."

Alistair stepped up then and suggested, "Your Grace, Duncan offered these health potions we had on hand should you need them."

Arhiannon opened her eyes to find the owner of the voice. She had spoken to him only a few times since his arrival at Highever, but the sound of his voice was oddly refreshing and reassuring. "Thank you," she managed at last.

Alistair gave her a quick if somewhat lopsided smile. "The best thanks you could give us is to get well soon," he told her. "Duncan was quite impressed with what he saw of you and your friend here."

Arhiannon's brow lifted at that as she turned to look at Rory. Her second smiled but said nothing. She began to wonder about the advantages of having a Grey Warden interested in one's abilities and what it might possibly lead to in the future. "Tell the Warden Commander thank you for me please, and that I hope to speak with him further about his impressions when I am once again mobile," she offered as she settled back to rest some more. The last thing she would later recall as she drifted off to sleep once more was Alistair smiling again before he turned to leave the room.


End file.
